Short Stories
by nevillehotbottom
Summary: Cute and romantic mini-stories about Hermione and Ron, and their brand new family.
1. Old Habits Die Hard

"That woman is a bloody lunatic sometimes," Ron Weasley mumbled quietly to the children, who were all seated around the circled kitchen table; including his godson and the other little Potters, who were visiting for the weekend. With their parents, of course.

Ginny simply scowled at Ron, unamused by the way her brother insulted his own wife. Whereas Harry and his daughter, six, and each of his sons, ten and nine, all let out a similar chuckle. The young boys, James and Albus, attempted to muffle the sound of their laughter by covering their mouths with their hands. Small hands, to be exact. And it wasn't working all that well. But unafraid of the married couple, Harry carelessly let that cheeky laugh roar; and Lily Luna was doing her best to copy the way he did so, glancing up at him every now and then, just to make sure she was copying him correctly.

Confused by all the giggles and the commotion, Ron looked at each and every one of them. Rose and Hugo Weasley were both looking directly past him; and that was all the man needed to understand the situation. "She's behind me, isn't she?" His mouth was full of food, as per usual, and his red-headed toddlers nodded eagerly. Wide smiles brightened their little faces, and not even a second later, Ron's body jerked forward as his wife whacked a rolled up newspaper over his head. His brows pulled together, complaining silently as he placed his disgustingly large sausage sandwich back on to it's plate. He waited a moment, looking back over his shoulder at the honey-like brunette, and then back to his guests. "I told you – bloody lunatic!"

"Honestly, Ronald! How many times do I have to tell you!" Hermione huffed cutely, "No swearing in front of the children."

Rolling his eyes, Ron took hold of his food once more; typically waiting until he'd taken a huge bite before speaking. "Sorry." He grumbled.

Him and Hermione had this argument several times a day, for the past ten years; ever since their first child was born. Although Ron strongly disagreed that 'bloody' was in fact a swear word, he tried his best to use it as little as possible. But, being as clumsy with his words as he was, it would slip up every now and again. Every now and again, meaning every damn sentence. Old habits die hard.

Hermione always forgave him, though. Always.

From behind, Ron felt her slim arms wrap lovingly around his neck, followed by a small peck to the tender area beneath his ear. "I know you are, I know." Hermione spoke softly. The woman would never admit it, but she was incredibly thankful that Ron had put up with her bossily confident, sometimes lunatic-like, high maintenance personality for so long. She knew she could be a little bit difficult; and it was important that she let him know how grateful she was... without letting him know that she agreed with his opinions. "And I _bloody_ love you," Hermione whispered into his ear.

Her words brought a bright smile to Ron's lips, and without knowing what Hermione had said, the whole table looked at them with disgust.

"I don't even want to know." Harry groaned, scrunching up his nose before looking down at his daughter; who, of course, mimicked Harry's wrinkled expression.


	2. Almost Instantly

"Daddy," A little soft voice called out, stopping the red headed man from leaving the bedroom. He had just finished tucking his two children, Rose and Hugo Weasley, safely in bed; but his eight year old daughter wasn't quite ready to fall asleep. Not just yet. "Could you tell us a story?" Her soft voice mumbled again.

Ron lifted a wrist and glanced at his watch, taking in the late time of 11:45pm, before ruffling a hand through his already scruffy hair. Hermione had strictly ordered him to put the kids straight to bed, as it was his fault they were up so late; driving his wife mental by chasing them around the house, using magic, and making as much noise as possible. He knew he'd get in trouble for keeping them up another minute longer, but with both children looking at him with sleepily pleading eyes, he caved. "One," The man stated. A kind smile played in the corner of his lips, and he made his way back towards them. "But only the one."

He dragged a nearby arm chair between the two single beds, looking at Hugo, and then at Rose; each of the children laying back, propped up on their elbows, excited and sleepy all in one. Before he could even ask which story they wanted to hear, his six year old son began blurting out suggestions like he was never going to hear the suggested stories again. "Tell us one more time what Hogwarts is going to be like! Ah, the feasts!" Hugo nearly drooled, but he quickly jumped back on track. "No, no. Tell us about Uncle Fred and George's pranks! Or how you fought in the Battle of Hogwarts! No, no, no, no! About how your rat was really a fat old man!" Ron watched his son in complete amusement, listening to the endless list that flew from the boy's mouth; every story being a story they'd heard a thousand times, all at Hugo's request.

"But I want to pick the story this time," Rose complained quietly. Ron and Hugo both turned their attention towards the young girl, waiting for her supply of suggestions; but she only had the one. "I want to know how you met mummy."

Hugo rolled his eyes at the mere thought of a romantic story, letting his head fall back in to his pillow; expecting boredom. Ronald, however, eagerly leaned forward. His arms were resting on his knees, and his hands were tightly clasped, and he simply smiled. "Well," Ron began, pausing as he thought back to the first time he'd ever laid eyes on his wife. "It was the first day of school. We were on the train ride in, Harry and I... It was the first time I'd met him, too. And out of no where, this messy haired girl appeared in the doorway of our cabin. The very first thing she did was criticize my magic, and then proceeded to pull out her wand and boast about her intelligence. Not only was she totally unexpected, but she wasn't invited - and yet, she took a seat anyway. And although I'm sure I would have disagreed back then, sitting opposite that bloody book loving annoyance, but. I'm glad that she did."

"When did you fall in love?" Rose asked curiously. She was now sat completely upright; her elbows leaning on her knees, and her chin perched in her tiny hands.

Her question took him back to the first time he knew he felt something, despite how much he tried to deny it. He thought back to to the first time she'd grabbed his hand, back to how she'd cutely hide her face in his chest; out of fear, and in need of comfort or protection. He remembered the twang of jealousy he felt every time he'd see her with somebody that wasn't him; Viktor Krum, and even Harry. He remembered how, whenever the two friends would hug, he would desperately wish it was _his_ arms that were wrapped tightly around her. He then grinned to himself, remembering the feeling he would get in the pit of his stomach, every time Hermione walked in to the room.

"Well?" Hugo surprisingly piped up, impatiently glaring at his father; whom was still lost in thought. "When did you fall in love?" He repeated. The complete opposite of bored!

"There wasn't a specific date, or day, or time." Ron spoke absently; his wife was still on his mind. "The more time I spent with your mother, the more I realised that I never wanted to be without her. It happened gradually, but, I knew almost instantly that she was the one."


End file.
